


Never be

by Houseofmalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 21:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofmalfoy/pseuds/Houseofmalfoy
Summary: It only happens when there's alcohol to hide behind, but they're well aware it can never be.





	Never be

“What in Salazar’s name are you supposed to be dressed as, Lestrange?”

Antonin Dolohov approaches him with a grin that shows off the fangs he’s charmed on, a drip of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. Rodolphus rolls his eyes at him.

It’s a halloween gala held in Lestrange Manor — not that he had anything to do with the preparations for it whatsoever. Neither had Bellatrix, come to think of it. Really the only reason it was being held here was because Malfoy Manor’s ballrooms were being redecorated. The gala was all Narcissa’s work.

Next to him, Antonin leans on the bar beside him and orders two glasses of firewhiskey. “Well?” The man asks him, clearly mocking him in one way or another. Rodolphus shakes his head and takes one of the glasses with a glare. He’s not dressed up and Antonin knows it well enough. 

“Dark wizard.”   
“How original.”   
“Says the bloody vampire?”

They laugh and down their glasses.

They’ve been friends since they met on the Hogwarts Express in first year: when he and Narcissa had been so curious about this russian pureblood boy they’d only heard their fathers speak of. Shared a dorm for seven years and always reserved a spot for the other in the library — if they decided to go. 

Rodolphus’ mind briefly wanders off to stolen kisses in a shared dormitory and he shakes the thought off as soon as it appears. It’s replaced with the image of them in this very manor: in his own study upstairs. Half naked with the door locked; snogging like their life depended on it. Drunk, just as he’s sure they’ll be later tonight.

They haven’t done that in ages and for good reason; it’s just not worth the risk is it? Clear-minded he’d never — knowing the consequences of getting caught. Rodolphus Lestrange isn’t a fool.

Another round of whiskeys is served and they down them together once more. After that comes another; then another; and then he stops counting. It’s always been easier when he’s drunk. 

“Have you spotted Narcissa yet? Or her sister?” Antonin dares to ask after a while.

Of course they’ve seen Narcissa: Narcissa makes sure she’s seen by everyone in the room. It’s her sister he’s really inquiring about — Rodolphus’ wife. 

Rodolphus shakes his head. “Not even sure she’s around at all, really. More likely she showed up to please Narcissa and got lost again.” He’s not complaining at all — while he and Bella don’t particularly care to hide their affairs from one another, it’s more comfortable overall knowing she’s nowhere near them.

“Another drink?”

They’ve always been cowards, haven’t they?

Antonin pours them both another glass and it doesn’t escape Rodolphus’ notice that he moves closer to him now. Not too close — they’re not so daft as to make this too obvious for others — but close enough. For now. 

Rodolphus swallows. 

“Haven’t seen you around as much lately. What have you been up to?” He asks, glancing around the room quickly to see if anyone’s paying attention to them. Of course not, why would they?

He takes a moment to just let his eyes wander over the other man’s body and he hates himself for how dry his mouth suddenly is. Rodolphus barely hears Antonin’s response, but in truth it doesn’t really matter. It’s only smalltalk, and the answer can’t be anything other than missions carried out for their Lord.

Antonin hasn’t missed his look, how can he? “See something you like, Lestrange?” He asks, a challenge in his voice.

“Naturally.”   
It looks like Antonin is about to say something else but then he just shakes his head. Rodolphus flashes him a grin. They’ve never been particularly eloquent in this game; too much at risk for it to feel comfortable, even after so long.

They have another drink.

oOo

Half an hour later Rodolphus leaves the manor’s ballroom, exactly five minutes after Antonin has.

He’s intoxicated still and stumbles just a little when he walks up the stairs, half hard already just knowing who he’s coming to see. Rodolphus opens the door to the master bedroom and closes it behind him without a second thought, locking and silencing it as if it’s a second nature. It just might be.

Antonin’s sitting on his bed, from what it looks like trying and failing to undo whatever charm he’s used on the fangs. Rodolphus laughs at him and then shrugs. They’re not so bad looking at all, really. “Just leave them on, moron.”

A moment later he’s cupping Antonin’s stubbled face in his hands and his mouth is pressed roughly against the other wizard’s lips, a sigh that’s embarrassingly close to relief escaping him.

Antonin’s hands take hold of his waist and Rodolphus lowers himself into the man’s lap with a grin, not breaking their kiss. He’s missed this, he thinks, Merlin’s balls he’s missed this. 

Rodolphus’ lower lip is bitten harshly and he’s sure he’s tasting his own blood now but it honestly only makes for a better experience: he’s adaptable like that.

He kisses Antonin passionately, not wasting a moment with forcing his tongue in the the other wizard’s mouth with ease. Rodolphus groans into the kiss and for a moment wants nothing more than to do just this for the remainder of the night; to savour every bit of Antonin’s mouth as if nothing else in the world matters anymore.

That is until Antonin’s hands move up to the closures of Rodolphus’ robes and start undoing them by hand, and he can’t tell whether it’s because magic has slipped Antonin’s mind or because there’s something that much more erotic in undoing one’s clothes with your fingers, but either way he loves it.

Rodolphus’ robes are undone rapidly and fall halfway down his body while he shifts to begin to kiss down Antonin’s neck with a grin.

They've never been gentle— not when sober because they're no fools and not when drunk because there's no time — and tonight is no different.

He leaves bruises and bitemarks in Antonin's neck, who lets a moan slip at being ravaged like that. Rodolphus pushes him back on the bed with force, hands instantly reaching for the other man's trousers. 

It’s not too long before he’s got Antonin pinned down against the mattress, the both of them naked, and he can hardly believe he’d been so content just to kiss him only a while ago.

Rodolphus bites down in his neck harder when he enters him, stuffling a moan. He’ll never admit out loud he’s missed this, he’ll never say out loud he’ll miss this again when they’ll wake up tomorrow and pretend nothing’s happened. As always. 

Antonin’s below him, head tilt back and his nails digging into Rodolphus’ hip with such force he can already tell he’ll have the scars to show for it tomorrow.

Finding a rhythm easily — fast-paced, hurriedly almost — Rodolphus towers over the other man with a smirk; he takes in each expression of pleasure, and letting oneself go, that takes over Antonin’s face as the moments pass, just revelling in knowing he’s the one making Antonin feel that way. 

He’ll never say it out loud, but he loves having that knowledge.

Rodolphus’ hand buries itself in Antonin’s hair and he moans again, louder this time, when Antonin’s nails run up his back and the other man meets his pace with well-timed thrusts of his hips. 

It’s over too soon for his liking, even if in his drunk state of mind there’s really no way of telling how long it’s been. For all Rodolphus knows the morning’s come already. 

Antonin rolls away from him, not meeting his eyes, and that vaguely brings him back to reality. This can’t happen, not unless they pretend it doesn’t. Rodolphus lays down on his back and runs a hand through his hair with a tired sigh, eyeing his friend (that’s all he can be) from the corner of his eyes.

Antonin’s beautiful. He knew that beforehand, really, but it always seems so much more blatant when he’s naked — not just naked, but naked in Rodolphus’ manor — and still unattainable. 

By chance their eyes meet and Rodolphus offers a defeated grin, that’s met with Antonin’s unsure gaze before he turns away again. He hates this. 

Then Antonin does something that surprises him, more than Rodolphus would admit to just anyone, but he lets happen anyway. The other wizard moves back to him and kisses his lips, in a way Rodolphus can almost describe as being gentle. 

Gentle, isn’t them. Gentle isn’t for this— this thing they have going ong that no one can know about; but this kiss is gentle and for the short amount of time it lasts, it can’t be more than a few seconds, that’s all that matters. Gentle; almost as if they have a shot at making this work.

Antonin pulls away then, and fuck if it kills him just a little to see that look in his eyes. 

Rodolphus wants to tell him to stay; wants to kiss him again just as gentle as before; wants to hold onto him and not let go and forget about the world outside for a little while longer, but he does none of those things. There’s no way. 

“Fuck off, now.” He mutters instead, then closes his eyes as to not actually have to see Antonin leave the room; he also conveniently misses the finger he’s given before the door closes and he’s left alone.

It can never be, can it?

But Salazar how he wants it to.


End file.
